Yours, Mine, Ours
by AsteraceaeBlue
Summary: "It was absolutely possible for a female alpha to achieve a heat – a true heat, one that would allow her to conceive. However, certain circumstances needed to be met in order for that to happen." Jollock, nsfw
1. Chapter 1

**Thank you to MizJoely for the prompt, the beta work, and the title help! Pure, nsfw Jollock ahead.**

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><p>For a reason that completely eluded Sherlock Holmes, his brother had chosen a particularly pleasant Wednesday afternoon to tromp into 221B and lecture him about family responsibilities. Poking his umbrella at anything lying about the flat that he deemed useless, Mycroft droned on and on about the security of the Holmes line and the importance of maintaining proper social standing. Or some such nonsense that resembled that topic, Sherlock couldn't be too sure, occupied as he was with soil samples from various streets in Harringay.<p>

"…and furthermore, you've upset plenty of people with your choice of spouse, you know how it looked to everyone…like you'd done it just to prove some ridiculous point, simply because you could…"

The corner of Sherlock's mouth curled up in a satisfied half smile as he tuned into Mycroft's little rant. He gripped the knob of his microscope and clicked the lens into higher focus.

Upon meeting Molly for the first, before properly assessing her scent, most people assumed he had picked himself a fine omega and he was often praised for his open mindedness in "allowing" her to continue her work at Bart's. She was, after all, incredibly even-tempered and at times bashful, her awkwardness belying the fierceness that lay below. The people who were incapable of realizing their mistake were verbally corrected, and not kindly, and those who could sense their error stuttered and turned beet red in front of him before looking for some reason to dash away. He preferred the latter encounters, if he was forced to admit it. Saved him the energy of correcting the idiots and it was far more entertaining to watch.

No, his Molly was alpha through and through. Anyone privy to their nocturnal activities would know. Poor Mrs. Hudson, he really did owe her some ear plugs.

It was a pairing that rarely worked. Statistics revealed most alpha couples divorced within five years, and it was frequently ugly. There was personality to consider; mixing two volatile temperaments was bound to go bad for most. And then there was the issue of procreation…

"…there are plenty of individuals who would be suitable and likely accommodating to your situation, all you need to do is muster up a little motivation and pick one…"

With that statement, Sherlock was left with little doubt that procreation was indeed the reason behind Mycroft's visit that day. Their parents had been generous and kind in the wake of Sherlock and Molly's union, but skepticism for such a pairing had remained. Not unwarranted, he supposed, but irritating nonetheless. But it had been made very clear that if he ever wanted to see the full sum of his trust fund, children would need to be produced.

He wasn't against the idea of children and he knew Molly wasn't either, but the transactional nature of it all had grown exponentially, especially since he'd learned of the financial reward for fulfilling this last piece of his domestic endeavors. Easier said than done, in the long run.

It was absolutely possible for a female alpha to achieve a heat – a true heat, one that would allow her to conceive. However, certain circumstances needed to be met in order for that to happen.

Which was apparently why his brother was standing in his living room spewing facts about his access to suitable, available omegas. It certainly wasn't because he liked to show off how many single women he knew; Sherlock had learned long ago that the last thing Mycroft was interested in was women.

"Fortunately for you, you have a brother with complete access to every available omega in the country," Mycroft finished his speech smugly.

"And as wonderfully convenient as that is, I have very little use for you."

"Oh, so you've picked one already?"

"Mm," Sherlock replied with as little confirmation as possible. He waved his hand airily as he was absorbed once again by the minerals in his sample. "Bye now."

Mycroft paused for a moment, trying to read any tell in his brother's face that could give him a clue as to what he had planned.

"This is a rather important matter, Sherlock, I do hope you're giving it the gravity it deserves," he said. "It shouldn't be just anyone."

"I'm aware," Sherlock said, his voice dropping into a near growl, finding himself increasingly frustrated with his brother's pestering.

Mycroft took the hint and let himself out.

As soon as he was gone, Sherlock let out a sigh and reclined in his chair, abandoning his observations for the time being. Pressing his palms together and tucking his fingers under his chin, he contemplated the fact that it was likely time to do something about his and Molly's situation. They'd been married for five years and there was no point in waiting any longer. The task of finding an omega would not be difficult.

The truth was, he'd had his sights set on one particular omega for quite some time.

John Watson.

A male omega. Exceedingly rare, but not unheard of. Sherlock had consulted with him on many cases and found the man to be of good character, very intelligent, and doing well living as doctor, hiding his recessive genetic coding with suppression medication. Easy enough for a doctor to have access to such controversial medicine. A doctor specializing in omega health, of all things. If that hadn't been a tip off to the authorities, he figured nothing would, as most omega physicians were women. Hiding in plain sight, really, and Sherlock smiled in approval at the disguise.

Molly would never approve of bringing another female into their home, he knew that much for sure. And certainly not an omega female. She would rip the poor woman's throat out within minutes of catching the scent of his interest in another female. Which left just one option, one that had been his and Molly's conclusion when discussing the matter weeks ago.

Standing quickly, he pulled off his dressing gown and reached for his jacket hanging on the back of his chair. He checked his watch as he walked towards the coatrack, grabbing his Belstaff and scarf. Two-fifteen on a Wednesday. John would be at his practice, just back from a quick lunch break. Sherlock smiled to himself.

Perfect.

He was fortunate to arrive at the clinic during an afternoon lull, flashing the receptionist a smile as he strolled in. By this time, they were used to Sherlock's random appearances to ask John for his assistance on cases. He knocked lightly on the office door before letting himself in, meeting John's somewhat surprised, but happy, gaze.

"Sherlock! What brings you in today? Good case on?"

His enthusiasm for the excitement of cases was one of the reasons Sherlock was drawn to him. It was rare to find someone who took the same enjoyment in the oddities of human life that he did. And now he'd found two such people in his life.

"No case today," Sherlock stated.

"Ah," John replied, standing from his desk chair. "Well, what can I do for you?"

"Have you ever considered taking an alpha mate?" Sherlock asked bluntly. No point in tiptoeing around the subject.

"Um, hmm," John sputtered, stopped in his tracks. "Why, why would I… hem, that's a pretty unusual…"

"You've done very well hiding your true genetics, better than most," Sherlock praised him.

John faltered for a moment, visibly trying to decide whether to be threatened or nonchalant. The muscles in his cheek twitched and he took a step back.

"I'm not… I don't know what you're - "

"Your scent is completely hidden, I'll give you that. Well done there, any regular person would pass you over without a second look," Sherlock said. "Which means they would completely miss the scars along your neck that you so cleverly hide with your collared shirts. You always wear collared shirts, did you know it would give you away one day? Scars that were given to you by alphas when you were barely of age. Must have confused the hell out of everyone. Your parents likely didn't put it all together until just before you left for uni." Sherlock stepped closer to him, noticing John's taut stance and his refusal to cower in the presence of an alpha. It was irresistible, this display of confidence, and he found himself drawn in closer as he went on, curious to see if he could pick up the scent if he got close enough. "The poor alphas at secondary who felt the pull to dominate you – likely confused to this day why they should want to mark another male. They probably told themselves it was because you fell into the category of 'weak alpha,' chalking it up to competition and never wondering why their olfactory system seemed to send the very strong signal of… omega."

Obviously struggling to hide his interest, John looked purposefully away from Sherlock, but his head tilted, exposing his neck in what could only be an invitation. An invitation Sherlock did not immediately accept, though he was dying to do so.

"Yeah," John said, his tone clipped. "Yeah, you're right…of course you're bloody right, you always are."

"Don't worry, I'm not about to turn you over to be filed in the database," Sherlock reassured him with a small smile. "But I am here to offer you an arrangement of sorts. We've known each other for some time, now. And, well, Molly and I are in need of some…assistance.

"Assistance?" John repeated, looking at him skeptically.

"You're tired of taking the suppressants, anyone would be," Sherlock said practically. "This is an opportunity for you to live in freedom. You could use the protection and we could use the…inspiration. And I don't think it's too bold to say any of us is repelled by the proposed arrangement. Do you?""

John looked at him for a moment, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he considered the offer that had been presented to him. He was not a stupid man, he knew that the offer was likely the best he could hope for short of finding a female alpha of his own and hoping the relationship worked out.

"You've…talked to Molly about this, I assume?" he asked, clearing his throat and glancing down.

"Of course," Sherlock informed him. "She's rather enthusiastic about the entire scenario." With a completely unsubtle glance down at John's groin, he added, "And she's clearly not the only one."

A flush spread over the shorter man's face and he shifted in embarrassment. Sherlock waved it off, hardly blaming the man for getting excited with all the talk that had been transpiring. Not to mention he had been intentionally riling him up…just to test John's interest.

"Yeah, hm, well," John muttered, trying to remain dignified.

Sherlock took another step closer, effectively closing the distance between them. John went stock-still and looked up at him.

"So you accept?"

"Jesus, Sherlock, you make it sound like a business transaction," John grumbled, his brow dropping in annoyance.

Sherlock hummed and considered the statement before placing a hand along John's jaw and tipping his face up, looking him in the eyes before lowering his mouth and claiming John's lips. The heat between them was instantaneous, coaxing him to deepen the kiss, feeling John's tongue sweep along his and hearing the hitch in his breath. Digging his fingers into the back of John's neck, forcing him to hold still, Sherlock pulled his mouth away and lowered his head to sniff at his neck, his nose brushing against bare skin.

"Ah. There it is," he growled, satisfied when he finally caught the scent of omega drifting off his skin. It was subtle and forced from their intimate encounter, but it was there. His trousers tightened. Lifting his head, he placed his mouth next to John's ear. "This is a permanent situation we're offering. Not a business transaction. You would become part of our family. We want you with us. Do you understand?"

John nodded and swallowed audibly.

"Good. Come by for dinner on Friday, we can discuss the details," Sherlock said, releasing John and stepping back. He reached into his pockets and extracted his gloves, tugging them on with precision.

"Friday is…really soon," John said tentatively.

"Just dinner, John," Sherlock told him with an amused smile. "Your comfort is important here. It'll be your decision when to stop taking the suppressants. That's something else we can discuss."

"All right. Good," John said, bobbing his head in agreement.

"Excellent," Sherlock said cheerfully, winking at John before taking his leave of the office.

oOo

Dinner had gone wonderfully, which was fortunate, as it could easily have dissolved into the most awkward night of any of their lives. Whatever John had expected, it certainly hadn't been to be embraced warmly by Molly upon his arrival and then, miracle of miracles, by Sherlock. Molly watched the interaction between the doctor and her husband with a keen interest. It was a fully different dynamic than the one between Sherlock and herself, powered not only by attraction, but by intrinsic biology. She felt it running through her body as well. Though the subject was not broached, she could already tell John Watson had tapered back on his medication. The somewhat tart scent of omega drifted after him throughout the evening.

It set her on edge and made her mouth water.

It was like a supercharged first date between the three of them, each pretending they were fine ending it with John offering a goodnight and heading out the door with a promise to let them know when they could go forward with everything. For her part, Molly hoped it was sooner rather than later. She liked John, almost as much as she liked Sherlock. He was sturdy and reliable, with just enough taste for danger to suit. And she'd been witness to him putting her husband in his place on more than one occasion, always an entertaining sight.

"So," Sherlock said as he closed the front door, turning to look at her. "Is this still something you want?"

"Mmm," Molly hummed, stepping in front of him and running her hands up his chest before winding her arms behind his neck. "It's obviously something _you_ want."

She could smell the desire emanating from his skin, as though the looks he'd been giving both John and her all night were not enough to know what was going on in his mind.

Sherlock wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her tight against him.

"Yours is the opinion that matters here, Molly," he murmured, dropping his head to nip at the skin of her neck. "And what _you_ desire.

Molly's body arched against his as his teeth scraped along her skin between gentle kisses, the love bites sending shivers straight through her.

"What we desire," she corrected. "And I think we're in agreement that he'll make a perfect addition. But right now," she said, sliding her arms away from him and gripping the lapels of his jacket, tugging him away from the door and towards the sofa, "I desire you."

When she had him seated on the leather cushions and had settled herself over his hips, she was pleased to find that she was not the only one aroused by the presence of John in their flat. Their sex life had always been beyond satisfying, fueled by the alpha need to conquer, to win, to generally drive their partner into a state of insensible bliss. On nights when the passion was running especially high, he'd knotted her with a ferocity normally reserved for heats. But she would be lying if she said she wasn't eager to see what the addition of an omega, one they were mutually attracted to, would accomplish when inserted into the mix.

Based on the way Sherlock practically ripped her skirt trying to gain access to her knickers, she was already seeing those effects. She quickly obeyed his command to stand up so he could pull the small lace article from her body before yanking her back to his lap. She could feel the heat of him through the fine material of his trousers and she took her time teasing him with the roll of her hips as he worked the buttons of her blouse open. He watched her the entire time, holding her eyes as he slid the fabric off of her shoulders and tossed it to the floor before reaching for the hooks of her bra. The chill of the air caused her nipples to harden, but she was quickly relieved by his warm hands on her flesh, squeezing, and then his mouth was taking each breast in turn and her hands were pulling at his zipper, her eyes closing and her mind going hazy as she sank onto him.

In the past, it took time for his knot to form, allowing for long bouts of passion before being joined in that way. She knew almost immediately that night was already different, feeling him begin to swell against her within seconds, limiting her movement even as his hands cupped her arse and encouraged her to keep riding him. Molly gripped the back of the sofa, her forehead dropping to his shoulder as she felt her muscles being stretched and every nerve stimulated at once, the promise of her orgasm rising quickly.

"Oh God, Sherlock…I can't…I'm going to…" she gasped out, biting down hard on her lip to keep from screaming as his hips thrust forcefully against hers, sending her over the edge.

His fingers dug into her arse and he swore loudly in her ear as she came, and in a few short thrusts he was joining her, hot and pulsing and almost too much for her to handle.

Oh, she thought, pulling air into her lungs and gripping tremulously at Sherlock's hair and shoulders. If this was how it could be without John, she was shaking with anticipation at the thought of how it could be with him.

oOo

The very next day, they received a call from John. He was interested in seeing them again the following weekend. Molly almost drove Sherlock up the wall with her preparations, trying to make the flat as presentable as possible (nothing rotting in the fridge or toxic experiments in the kitchen). He accused her of being more nervous for this date with John than she ever had been with him, to which she smirked and swatted him on his rear.

"You just never saw it," she assured him.

When the weekend finally arrived, Molly did start to feel flutterings of nervousness, not quite the same as when she'd started seeing Sherlock, but it still left her somewhat giddy. Of course, her first date with Sherlock had started with inspecting a cadaver showing signs of arsenic poisoning and had ended with a highly inappropriate snog in the supply cupboard.

This was bacon wrapped scallops and red wine and facing the possibility of entering her first heat.

The second John entered the flat, she knew it was more of a certainty. He'd stopped taking the suppressants completely. He waltzed in with a smug smile on his face, looking smashing in jeans and a cream colored jumper, depositing a bottle of wine on the kitchen table and pretending he didn't notice the two alphas staring at him, drinking in the pure scent of omega.

The oven timer dinged, distracting all of them from the sudden tension. John smiled and pointed towards the range.

"Shall I?" he asked when no one moved.

Molly shook herself out of the sudden wave of desire that had hit her and stepped forward.

"No, I've got it," she said quickly, scrambling for potholders and pulling the tray of appetizers from the oven. She transferred them onto a platter as she listened to Sherlock give small talk his best try.

"So," he started, clearing his throat and reaching for a bottle opener. "How was work?"

"Busy. Full appointment schedule and we had two girls rushed in with unexpected heats, their families had no idea they were omegas. Aaaand, you don't care at all," John chuckled, accepting the glass of wine from Sherlock.

"No, no," Sherlock said firmly. "It's…it's interesting."

"Maybe, but not to you," John said. "And that's fine."

"I think you do great work," Molly offered, guiding the group towards the lounge and placing the food on the coffee table. "It's good for them to have someone reliable. On their side."

"Ta," John said, lifting his glass to meet hers and taking a sip. "And how about you? Good day?"

Sherlock started to chuckle as he sat on one end of the sofa, reclining and settling his glass on the arm. Molly bit her lip, making herself comfortable next to her husband and giving John an apologetic look.

"Fun day?" John guessed, taking the remaining spot on the sofa.

"Um, I got called out to Sherlock's crime scene for a body recovery," she began, trying to ignore Sherlock's amusement.

"You don't normally do that," John commented.

"No. Well, the body was a little bit…in a chimney. And, the first SOCO sort of…" She trailed off at Sherlock's snort. John cocked his head and looked at her in anticipation. "Anderson got stuck in the chimney," she finished in a rush.

John's eyes shot over to Sherlock for confirmation and he was met with an amused smile and a nod before Sherlock took a drink of his wine. In a few seconds, all three of them dissolved into a fit of laughter.

It set the mood for the evening, sharing odd stories and arguing about medical facts until the food was gone and the wine bottle was empty. After a particularly amusing story about one of John's classmates fainting during a class on birth during medical school, the laughter died down and a silence filled with expectation took over the room. It hadn't gone unnoticed by Molly that John's arm had stretched out along the back of the sofa behind her, his fingers gently brushing against her hair. Sherlock's hand rested on her thigh, his skin warm.

She licked her lips, suddenly very aware of what was likely about to happen. Glancing at John, she noticed that his eyelids had grown heavy and he was staring at her in a way that left very little doubt as to what he was thinking. She watched his eyes flick behind her to Sherlock and guessed he must have received some sort of go-ahead signal. He looked back at her and hesitated only long enough to make sure she was ready before lacing his fingers into her hair and leaning forward to kiss her.

He was different than Sherlock. His kiss was firm, but a little timid, letting her drive the intensity, yielding under her lips. She loved it, loved the feeling of him waiting for her unspoken commands. A whimper left her mouth when she felt Sherlock's hand slip under the hem of her skirt and slide up her thigh, his fingers finding her clit through the cotton fabric of her knickers. She let her legs drop open to give him better access, nipping at John's lower lip as the kiss deepened. In no time at all, John had his hand under her blouse and was palming her breast, making her melt even further into the sensations that were assailing her. She broke the kiss as her head dropped back against the sofa and she felt Sherlock shift forward, his free hand reaching out to grab John by the back of the neck as he leaned in to kiss him hard, never stopping the ministrations of her clit.

"Bedroom," Sherlock growled. "Now."

The loss of contact made her gasp as they all stood up, somehow staggering down the hall and towards the bedroom. The pheromones in the room hit Molly from all angles and she felt torn, dizzy, unsure of where to turn her attentions first. Sherlock made it easy for her, nodding towards the bed as he stood back and quickly unbuttoned his shirt.

"After you," he said congenially to John, a hungry grin on his face.

John didn't wait for a second invitation, taking Molly in his arms and kissing her again as he lowered them to the bed. For the first time in her life, Molly felt a part of her desperate to submit to the man lying on top of her, while at the same time feeling the familiar pull to dominate. Her heart thudded in her chest at the new sensations, and she struggled to keep track of what she felt as John made quick work of removing their clothes. God, he smelled glorious unclothed and so close to her body. She opened her legs for him and let him settle over her, feeling his cock heavy against her and instantly desperate to feel him inside of her.

He paused to kiss her again, one hand teasing her breast as he rocked against her slit.

"Thank you," he whispered against her lips. "You have no idea…I've thought all week about this."

Molly simply nodded, pressing her hands into his arse and pushing him forward, moaning when he entered her. He lacked the physical traits of an alpha, but he was thick and hot and damn it all if he wasn't talented with his movement. Molly gripped at his back and held on for dear life, her eyes glancing over and making contact with Sherlock's. He was standing against the wall, his erection firmly in his hand as he stroked and watched them with a feral look in his eyes. Breath coming in short bursts, she kept her eyes locked on his as John worked her into a writhing mess.

oOo

Molly's orgasm assaulted Sherlock's senses and the increasing scent of omega from John had him at the limits of his self-control. He waited for Molly to come down from her high before moving towards the bed, not entirely sure he could stick to his original plan with both of them tempting him. As he climbed onto the mattress, his attention focused on John and the lovely flush that had spread across his cheeks and back while he fucked Molly. It was exactly the enticement he needed.

With a guttural growl he did not recognize as his own, he reached out and gripped John by the shoulders, pulling him off of Molly and pushing him onto his back. The surprised gasp from John was nothing compared to the whine of disappointment from Molly. Sherlock swallowed hard, forcing himself to ignore the desperate need from her. It wasn't all that hard with a prostrate omega right in front of him and he moved in, watching John's eyes widen. He knew what the other man was expecting, knew that he would soon give him exactly what was desired, but in that moment he shocked the omega by gripping his hips with his hands and lowering his head.

He nearly lost control of his actions when the taste of Molly combined tantalizingly with the taste and feel of John's cock filled his mouth. His tongue slid along John's smooth shaft and John's hands dug into his hair, a loud moan of pleasure escaping the omega's mouth. Sherlock groaned at the feel of his hair being tugged furiously as he sucked John deep into his mouth, tasting the start of his cum.

John's hips began to buck off of the mattress and Sherlock dug his fingers into the skin of his thighs, but the omega only cried out in pleasure, his fingers twisting in Sherlock's hair as he came. Sherlock swallowed every ounce, the salty taste and scent driving him mad and making his cock almost painfully hard. He had to hurry before it was too late.

Releasing John from his mouth with an audible pop, he looked at the omega with satisfaction before turning swiftly towards Molly. She was watching him, completely enraptured, her skin tinged pink and her chest practically heaving with each breath she took. Crawling over her, he wasted no time and leaned down to claim her mouth. He was rewarded with the sweetest cry of ecstasy he had ever heard from her.


	2. Chapter 2

Molly couldn't believe it. She could not believe that he had been this clever. With the scent of John's pleasure in the air and the taste of him on Sherlock's tongue, she was going to go out of her mind.

The first tingling of the change in her body chemistry started deep in her pelvis, setting her blood afire.

The feeling unfurled inside of her like a ship's sail, spreading out to every extremity and making her very bones tingle with need and want. She'd never experienced anything like it, this intense wave of desire leaving her gasping for her mate to fill her. If he didn't oblige her need quickly, she was sure that she would simply combust, her body succumbing to the burning desperation. Her skin felt too tight for her body and within seconds of the first sensations she was drenched in sweat, liquid pooling abundantly between her legs.

She dug her fingers into Sherlock's back, feeling that he could never be close enough to her to ease the ache she felt. With his mouth still on hers, he slid both arms below her body and gripped her, lifting her up and sliding her across the mattress until she found herself lying on top of John. The heat from his body only made hers worse, but the idea of being physically removed from him or Sherlock was bordering on painful. She could feel the muscles of his stomach and chest against her back, his arms offering a strong cradle as he stabilized her.

Sherlock caught her chin in his hand and held her still, looking into her eyes with a wildness she'd never seen in him before. Before she could wonder any more at the beauty of his passion, her head lolled back as she felt him slide into her, already fuller and hotter than he ever had been. She muttered nonsensical affirmations for his actions as he slid in and out of her, wanting every bit of him to fill her as she felt another orgasm building.

In the wildfire that was her impending climax, she felt John hardening again beneath her, his hips rocking against her arse as he held onto her and supported the coupling that was happening above him. He slid against her bum, slicked by her arousal, and in a mad moment of desperation to be connected to both of them, she dug her fingers into John's thighs and let out a commanding, "Yes, yes, please, do it," wanting to feel him in a way that was entirely familiar to her.

He took her arse in his hands and carefully pressed his cock against her bum. Sherlock groaned above her, his movements growing erratic and shallow as his knot began to form, and she felt John's cock enter her bum with a slick pop. The fullness sent her crashing over the edge, her body shaking with her orgasm and she failed to hold back shouts of bliss.

Sherlock lowered his mouth to her neck and bit down hard, extending her ecstasy. He thrust erratically, his thighs straining and his knot swelling larger than she'd ever thought possible.

"Fuck!" he shouted hoarsely, one hand gripping her hair and the other clenching John's arm as he came hard.

The feeling of him emptying forcefully inside of her sent another spasm of pleasure through her cunt and she nearly sobbed, her head dropping back onto John's shoulder again. It went on like that for several long minutes, Sherlock's residual bursts of ejaculation making her muscles flutter and John's cock enhancing every sensation as he remained sheathed tightly inside her bum. Eventually, she could feel Sherlock's knot begin to diminish and all three of them started to relax, Molly kissing Sherlock's neck as he lazily kissed John beneath her.

The fire under her skin had abated for the moment, her body cooling as Sherlock finally slid off of her and pulled her down to the mattress. He placed a lingering kiss on her forehead as he wrapped an arm loosely around her waist, John tucking against her back and slipping his arm across her stomach.

She felt beyond content, nestled between the two of them. She knew that they would need food and water soon, having exhausted whatever nutrients dinner had provided, but sleep was pulling at her and she just wanted to rest in their arms for a little while before the practicalities of their bonding called.

* * *

><p>John was the one to slip from the bed first, disappearing into the kitchen for water and any nibbles he could find in the cupboards. Sherlock and Molly were too focused on each other to contemplate leaving the bed, though they did take the proffered refreshment when John returned. Sherlock hadn't realized how parched he was until he gulped from the glass of cold water, draining it in a few seconds. He turned down the offer of food – dinner had been more than he'd indulged in for days. He watched John and Molly empty three packets of crisps and split an apple between them, his eyes flicking everywhere, noticing each limb movement and every muscle contract and relax. His observation skills felt heightened, tuned in with greater accuracy to the two people in front of him.<p>

It wasn't long before he noticed the pink color return to Molly's skin. He took a deep breath and inhaled a scent he meant to memorize – musky, but with a hint of sweetness. A scent he'd never detected from her before and one that was making him consider never leaving the bedroom again.

She sensed his change in energy, no doubt feeling the need for him swelling up inside her again. He licked his lips as he watched her shift on the bed, reclining against John's chest, one hand slowly reaching up behind her to grasp the back of his neck.

Oh, she was enjoying every minute of this, Sherlock thought. Fingers toying with John's hair and giving Sherlock a heated alpha stare even as she let her legs drop open and practically begged for his knot.

He was on top of her in an instant, pushing inside of her and drowning in the relief of a quieted mind unconcerned with anything outside of the flat, anything that wasn't Molly or John. He groaned as he felt himself nearing his climax, Molly's hot breath against his neck and her skin like an inferno under his.

"Mine," he growled, lifting his head to look at John. The omega's eyes were blown black with want and his mouth hung open, nearly panting as he watched. "Both of you. Mine."

The last thought he had before he emptied himself inside of Molly, locked inside her cunt, was that the words coming from his mouth belonged to some other man – a man who'd lost all sense of control and reason. He didn't care, only wanting to claim these two people for his own.

He knotted her twice more that night before Molly finally begged for reprieve, overcome by her heat; so when he scented the rise in pheromones again only ten minutes after their last coupling, he was surprised. Until he realized the scent was coming from John. It had taken all night, most of it as a supportive bystander while Sherlock mated with Molly, but John's arousal had finally reached heat levels.

And he was looking at Sherlock with desperation, his own cock rock hard.

It was Molly's turn to lie back, stretched alongside John as he opened his thighs to let Sherlock settle between them.

It had been so long for him…since uni. His cock twitched as he ground against John, letting the slick heat coat him. His muscles ached as he braced himself on his forearms, dropping his mouth to John's and enjoying the sharp intake of breath from him, his body shuddering with need beneath Sherlock's.

"Please," John begged between searing kisses. "Please, Sherlock, I need you…"

With a possessive bite to John's neck, Sherlock slid carefully, slowly inside of him, feeling John's fingers digging into his back. God, he was tight, and eager for him, his hips thrusting up to meet Sherlock's. He rocked into him, grunting with each thrust and biting his lip when he felt Molly's small hand slip between them and grasp John's prick. It made John gasp, his head tilting back and exposing his neck. Sherlock dropped his mouth to the flushed skin, sucking a mark into it that covered the old scars.

He could feel Molly's hand pumping John, brushing his stomach with each stroke, and it wasn't long before he felt the omega start to buck beneath him, his muscles clenching tight and a rough, "Fuck!" ripping from his throat. Sherlock grinned into the curve of John's neck, his hips snapping against his arse a few more times before he came, then collapsed to his side, completely spent.

The three of them lay on the bed, panting, utterly exhausted and satisfied, their bodies glistening in the first rays of sunlight that were peeking through the window.

* * *

><p>Sherlock glanced up from his laptop as he heard John bounding up the stairs of 221, a grin on his face and a shopping bag in his hand as he entered the flat. It was the third time that week that he'd come home with a pastel colored shopping bag in hand.<p>

"Bought out the shop yet, John?" Sherlock drawled, his attention split between the submissions on his website and John eagerly pulling a white romper with a yellow duck printed on it from the bag.

"Funny thing about the shops," John shot back. "They have more than five or six items to purchase."

Sherlock chuckled and watched John hold out the romper to Molly, who was sitting on the sofa with her feet propped on the coffee table and a pathology journal in her hands.

"Oh, John, it's precious!" she exclaimed, pushing her glasses further up her nose to get a good look at the romper.

"Think it'll fit?" John asked, draping the outfit across Molly's swollen belly.

"Seems to," she said with a smile, smoothing a hand over her stomach and straightening out the legs of the romper.

"Good," John said, leaning forward to plant a kiss on her lips before heading into the kitchen to put the kettle on.

Molly caught Sherlock's eye as she folded the romper and placed it next to her on the sofa.

"He's buying too much," Sherlock muttered.

"He's having fun, don't fuss," she replied with a smile.

"It's what the baby shower is for. Or so you keep telling me," he reminded her, still annoyed that they had to host the event in the flat.

"Doesn't mean I can't pick up a few things here and there," John said loudly from the kitchen.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, though he appreciated that the more time John spent shopping for the boring items, the less time he needed to do so. Fluffy booties and stuffed bears were not really his area. He was more interested in the practical purchases – bottle warmers, room organizers, a variety of infant thermometers. The important things. He made a mental note to visit the new baby shop he'd seen near Bart's to pick up whatever brands of diaper cream they had; he still felt he hadn't done a thorough enough job of testing the available ones for their chemical makeup.

He glanced over to Molly as she started to push herself up from the sofa, belly first.

"I need to get going," she stated, wandering over to the coat rack to find her jacket. "If I don't go now, I'll never find the energy."

Sherlock slid his chair back and stood up, crossing the room quickly to help her with her jacket.

"If you followed my advice, you wouldn't be going into work at all," he told her.

"It's just paperwork," Molly reminded him for the hundredth time, slipping her hand under her ponytail to pull it out from beneath the jacket. "Completely non-taxing."

With that said, she stood on tiptoe to press a kiss to his mouth, giving him a smile before turning towards the door.

"See you two later," she called as she left.

As he watched her make her way down the stairs, John appeared at his side, steaming cup of tea in hand.

"She'll be fine," he said casually, blowing on his tea to cool it. "She's only seven months."

"Seven months and twenty-two days," Sherlock corrected. "Important detail."

"Ah yes, what would we do without your attention to important details," John teased, slipping an arm around Sherlock's waist.

"I didn't hear you complaining about it last night," Sherlock replied with a smirk.

"Well," John said, giving Sherlock's arse a smack before turning to head towards his chair by the warming fireplace. "Some things are deserving of attention to detail."

Sherlock chuckled, not entirely sure how he'd managed to acquire two such wonderful people in his life.

"Anyone ever tell you you're saucy for an omega?" he quipped, wandering towards him.

"You," John smiled, sipping his tea as he settled against the plaid cushions. "Every day. Which is why you both love me."

Sherlock took the few extra steps to stand right in front of him, dropping his hands to the arms of the chair and leaning forward. He smirked as John stopped mid sip, quietly lowering his cup to its saucer and staring up at Sherlock in curiosity.

"And aren't you quite lucky that we do love you," Sherlock teased, putting on the show of bravado that always amused John.

"I am," John replied, surprising him with the seriousness of his tone. "I consider myself lucky every day."

Holding his gaze for a moment, Sherlock smiled at him before lowering his head and capturing his mouth, coaxing his lips apart and deepening the kiss almost immediately.

"I have to be at the clinic in half an hour," John sighed against his lips.

"Then be late."

"Can't. Have an appointment."

"Then be home early," Sherlock ordered, placing one final kiss to his mouth before standing up straight again. "And don't wear yourself out at work," he added with a wink as he strode into the kitchen to retrieve his latest experiment from the fridge. "I won't be the only one wanting your affections. Molly was rather pissed that she missed out on last night while she was at work."


End file.
